


Lost Souls

by SmexyWatermelon



Series: These Sweet Deaths Of Mine [2]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Lautrec you baka, Lies, Lies Everywhere, M/M, Near Death, slightest hint of Lautrec/Ana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:58:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmexyWatermelon/pseuds/SmexyWatermelon
Summary: Lautrec let the Frist Flame die to save the Chosen Undead; now that old monsters are rising anew, only the last god of Anor Londo can save the last survivors of Lordran from the Age of Darkness.(And also Lautrec keeps saying it isn't his fault if the flame died and Solaire is gonna sucker punch him in the face at some point)





	1. The end of the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if anyone's left to read a sequel. I sure wanted to write one :D

The Undead was just a faceless mask of blood by now, and Lautrec kept wondering how long he had left before he would have hollowed… faded… died, whatever he was supposed to do now that the First Flame was gone.

He almost forced him to chug a whole Estus Flask, but his body barely regenerated: his missing eye reappeared in its socket as the Undead screamed in pain, the process being clearly different from the ones undead underwent when the flame was still burning in the kiln.

“Don’t you dare dying on me, Drake…” he murmured, mostly as a reminder to himself than to the Undead, while he kept dragging him towards the exit of the Kiln: he had to get to somewhere safe in order to close the gashes and have the slightest chance of having him survive the night; the Undead did his best to walk at his side, but he was too weak to do much more than staying alive.

They reached the entrance of the colosseum and Lautrec let the Undead slide on the ground, sitting against one of the rocky walls as the golden knight gasped for air, trying to think on what to do next.  
“Leave me here-“ he murmured just above a whisper, and Lautrec immediately knelt beside him. “Drake.”  
“I’m serious, Lautrec.” “Shut the fuck up.” Eyebrows painfully crooked underneath dark dry blood. “Or else?” His eyes tiredly opened again, staring at the golden knight’s face and ignoring the blood loss darkening the corners of his vision. “I swear I’ll kick you all the way up to the shrine.” He growled undertone, definitely not in the mood to pander his lover.

“If we might be of advice…” Lautrec stood up and drew his shotel in defense when he saw a wall of giant Frampt-looking snakes appearing in front of the kiln’s exit: most of them flinched and slightly backed away in defense.  
“It is our duty to serve the bearer of the darkness… we wish no harm to you.”

“Can you help us or not?” the bluntness of his question seemed to make couple of the snakes back away, but another made way amongst the group.  
“K-kaathe…?” the Undead whimpered, his head painfully raised, looking towards the snake.  
He slightly bowed. “Anything for our Dark Lord.”

\---

Anastacia was drawing on the ashes with a stick when the shriek echoed through the valley: she knew what was happening, for the Undead had told her his wishes after all; Gwyn was dead, and she knew it not just because of Drake’s quest, but also because she felt her link to the Flame getting weaker for a moment, as if a master had just loosened their dog’s leash.

She waited and waited, counting the heartbeats separating Gwyn’s death and the supposed sacrifice of the Chosen Undead, the one that would have made the flames burn as fiercely as ever: he was not the first to complete the journey, but she hadn’t the heart to tell him what awaited him, for this thought already burdened him too much.

She released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding when she felt the link fading completely: she slightly widened her eyes as the oppressive feeling at the back of her neck faded and her prison bars crumbled before her very eyes in piles of dust on the ground.  
She embraced her legs tighter to her chest and backed towards the wall at the end of the little cave she had been secluded in for such a long time; albeit she had wished of being able to walk in Lordran’s fields one last time, now that the opportunity had presented itself she solely felt scared.  
She was no warrior, and the light still burning inside of her womb was a prize many would have killed for.

She didn’t know what could have expected her, but she figured she couldn’t just wait there to die either. She stood up, dusted her clothes and took in a deep breath, trying to process the idea of stepping outside in the big wide open field. She cautiously took a couple of steps forward, stopping where the bars had once stood, pocking at the dust with her foot before extending an arm towards the outside, letting the sunshine caress her pale skin and warmth spread upon it.

She heard some grunts coming from the ground above and she mustered the courage to move: if she was going to die, she wouldn’t have done that in the same cave as the first time; whether she liked it or not, it was time to leave this place.  
The first step she took outside was much more important than she would have ever imagined: she had almost forgotten the feeling of walking on grass, being bathed in the sunlight’s warmness… if Gwyn was dead, those things would have soon disappeared too, she reminded herself.

She heard other noises coming from upstairs and quietly pressed herself against one of the walls, softly pacing around the shrine to try to understand what was going on.

“Because an elevator would have been too fucking convenient…” was the first sentence she could hear clearly, coming from Lautrec.  
“Lordran: home of convenient places.” Drake whimpered shortly after, something breaking in his voice as he heavily breathed after every word, too weak to let out even a little chuckle.

She heard a shuffling noise, bits of armor being thrown on the ground: she peeked her head over the edge of her stone cover, watching silently.

“Damn. It’s deep.” Lautrec mumbled, staring at the Undead’s torso.  
“Great.” He let out a breathy sigh, his face contorted in pain.  
“It’s been so long since I’ve actually had to stitch someone…”  
“Dying was… easier.” He whimpered in response, something in his tone agreeing with Lautrec.

“Stay put!” Ana heard a pained groan and more shuffling. “Drake-“  
The noises stopped, and as she took another peek above her cover she saw Lautrec grabbing both the Undead’s shoulders, pinning him to the ground and waiting for him to stop moving.  
“I know it hurts, but- lay still. I can’t close them if you wiggle.”

She silently took a step forward, leaning in to see how the Chosen was doing.  
She stopped immediately when the golden knight’s voice startled her. “What are you doing out of your cage?” Lautrec asked without turning around. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled shortly after, without waiting for her reply. “come closer, I need help.”

When she didn’t comply, the knight turned his head towards her, easily seeing how scared she still was of him.  
“You’d rather have him die?”  
Anastacia’s eyes drifted from Lautrec’s ones to Drake and back: she strode towards the two of them and knelt behind the Undead, making him rest his head on her lap.

“Do you know how to stitch wounds?” she took the needle from his hands and switched places with him, while Lautrec fetched a roll of bandages from the Undead’s bags.

“It’s gonna be alright.” His sane eye looked up to him, gold shining among the blood, his eyelid closed, as if acknowledging the need to close the gash on his torso.  
Lautrec stroked his hair while Ana neared the needle to his skin, piercing as lightly as she could through it while Drake tried to muffle a hiss, a painful frown on his face, his knuckles turning white as Lautrec held his hand.

She stole quick glances from time to time to the golden knight: never had she seen him so worried. It was not something platonic, but he could tell by his cumbersome movements, jaw clenched and biting at his inner cheek as she kept stitching the Undead.  
She helped him dressing the Undead’s wounds, half of his face and his torso completely covered in gauze.  
Ana finished dressing again the Undead as Lautrec stood watch, blood still shining along the armguards of his armor.

“How is he?” He asked from above his shoulder when she was done.  
She moved cautious steps towards him “I did all I could.” He turned back to watching towards the burgh.  
“So… not good, then.” He sighed deeply, speaking without turning around as the keeper approached his side. “The estus didn’t work. Gwyn must have left some unhealable wounds on his body.”  
“Did you check whether he was bleeding inside?”  
“If he is, he’s as good as dead.” He said it in the most neutral voice he could muster, but the keeper had noticed the look he had given the Undead before turning around.

The sun was dropping fast on the rim of the horizon: albeit he didn’t know what hour it was, he was sure sunset should have been hours away.  
He climbed down the shrine hills, past the cemetery, going to get some water and then back to the Undead, who hadn’t moved from his spot, slouched against one of the Shrine’s walls.  
He knelt beside him, gently shaking him to wake him up. “Drink.” He murmured, nearing the flask filled with water to his lips.  
Drake shifted his head to the side without opening his eyes, dodgin the flask.  
“ _Undead._ ” he knew he was in trouble when Lautrec started using titles. He made the effort to open his eye, but that much was already drowning him of his strength.  
“You lost too much blood. Don’t force me to make you gulp this.”  
He tried to roll his eye. “Don’t get too heated, sweet cheeks.” At that statement, Lautrec swore he was that close to punching him, but after smirking at him the Undead obediently drank and Lautrec let that pass, more relieved than anything to see him still joke like he had always done.

“I will be too much of a burden-“ Before he could continue speaking, Lautrec stopped him. “Don’t you dare even starting.” Lautrec’s hand lightly squeezed at his shoulder. “I’m not leaving you behind.”  
He leant his forehead against his, his dark locks tickling at Drake’s skin. “Stay with me, just a little longer.”  
Drake’s eye looked into his, he closed the gap between them, leaving a soft kiss on Lautrec’s lips. “I’ll do my best.” He murmured with a little smirk.  
“Just stay alive.” He grumbled, standing up again, turning his head towards the direction of the keeper, whom in the meantime, had spotted a familiar figure lurching in the distance.

“L-Laurentius!”  
“Ana…” But before he could stop her, the keeper was already running towards the pyromancer: Lautrec had the hunch there was something wrong with the way he was moving at first glance, but Ana disregarded it, simply wanting someone to protect her from the golden knight.  
It was just when she was about ten feet away from him that she saw his completely jet black eyes and his pale complexion, sick dark veins pulsing just underneath his hood.  
He reeled forward with a snarl, grabbing tightly the keeper’s throat with his hands.

“Dammit.” Lautrec muttered undertone, sprinting towards them. Seeing the knight approaching, Laurentius freed one of his hands and threw a couple of fireballs at him, slowing him down as he resumed strangling the firekeeper.  
Ana bit him and kicked him away, but as she tried to stand up and run Laurentius threw himself at her with his whole weight, pinning her to the ground.  
The pyromancer was on top of her, another fireball birthing from his fingertips, but just when he was about to release it a sick noise of metal making way through flesh resonated in the wide open space, Laurentius’ body being lifted from hers and thudding against the ground just behind her: she heard that noise again, and what remained of Laurentius exhaling its last breath. Just after he stopped moving Lautrec pulled the shotel out of his chest.  
He wiped the blood away from the blade with his fingertips, noting how dark and thick it was, testing it between his fingers.

_Too dark to be regular blood._

“W-what happened to him?” Ana whimpered, and Lautrec shifted his gaze from his hand to her. “I don’t know. Never saw anything like this.” He nudged at the pyromancer’s body with his foot, but he wasn’t moving anymore, nor fading into screeching souls. “Guess it’s one of the new perks of the Age of Darkness.” He mumbled neutrally.

The sun was setting under the rim of the horizon: probably the last sunset they were going to witness in a long while, more probably forever.  
He looked back at the corpse, still laying on the ground while a dark pond of his blood kept spreading on the grassy ground, and sighed.

“He looks dead enough.” He turned around, pacing towards the place where the Undead was laying.  
Lautrec put Drake’s arm around his shoulder and took a hold of his belt with his free hand, helping him up with a grunt: the Undead was again barely conscious, following Lautrec’s directions as he whispered in his ear.  
“Where are we going?” he feebly asked, leaning his forehead against the side of his neck.  
“I don’t know.”

Lautrec took another glance at the corpse laying in the distance, its shadow becoming bigger as the sunrays softly disappeared, leaving only darkness behind.  
“But we can’t stay here.”


	2. The Burgh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is not too long or too boring :B and sorry for the long wait! (Last month has been crazy - won't happen again. I hope.)

The burgh was the most reasonable destination: Petite Londo and the catacombs were dangerous even on regular days, and he absolutely didn’t want to discover what they had become after the flame died.

Lautrec cleared the way as they proceeded, leaving Drake and Ana to wait behind until it was safe enough to pass. It was a slow process, even slower since the Undead couldn’t walk for long before almost fainting again.  
As they reached deeper inside the city, he realized more and more hollow were approaching them: he could tell most of them had freshly lost their last humanities in the past hours. Still, he wasn’t sure why.

The sunset painted the burgh in all the hues of oranges and purples as time passed.  
After getting almost half-way through it, he understood the situation would have just worsened the more they would have neared Sen’s fortress. He froze in front of the bridge, uncertainty threatening to make him question anything he had done so far. He didn’t want to face the bridge dragon just to be forced to take another path because of the hollows.

He kept staring at the open stone path of the bridge in front of him, weighing his options, Drake heavily leaning against him, his head resting against his chest.  
“What would you do?”  
“About what?” He mumbled as he forced his eye open again.  
“The cathedral will be swarmed at this point.”  
“Any place is right now.” He quietly murmured back.  
Lautrec pressed his lips together in a thin line before asking “You think that apartment you had found could do?”  
“It might. We just need to get out of the streets. Where, is a more relative topic.” He mumbled as his eye shut again.

He turned around and nudged at the keeper to follow him back the way they came. It was while they were walking through the endless maze of buildings that he realized the sun had completely disappeared. Now only darkness remained to paint the sky in the blackest of shades. Luckily enough the little light coming from the moon and the stars was enough to make him be able to spot any enemy before them.

They walked carefully on the stone path, avoiding all the dangers they could recall – the undead patrols watching over the ruins of the burgh, the black knights roaming the city, even Havel’s lair didn’t look so safe to traverse anymore, albeit his only inhabitant _should_ have been long gone.

They reached the plaza just before the large set of buildings: the street was crumbling to pieces, even more than usual. Entire chunks of stone were missing, dust and debris covering the ground. Sporadic pieces of armor laid on the floor, a lot of them covered in blood, some still containing severed limbs.

A body, seemingly dead from days, was laying sprawled against the wall: the curse had eaten at its body, leaving bones and tendons protruding out of its junctions and chest, wherever the tattered armor it had still on exposed the skin underneath. Lautrec ripped the crossbow it was still holding from its stiff hands, a noise like the ones of branches breaking echoed in the alleyway, and grabbed the satchel full of darts hanging from the corpse’s hip as well.  
He stood up again and offered them to the firekeeper.  
“Do you know how to use this?” she cautiously took the crossbow from his hands. “Point the sharp end towards the enemy and shoot?”  
He lightly tilted his head before turning around. “I don’t have to explain then.”

They heard growls and snarls in the distance, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Don’t stop moving.”

They were just about to start climbing up the long set of stairs that brought to what hopefully still was a safe haven, when a trembling form sauntered towards them, blocking their path.  
Although the dragon medallion was missing, the tattered dark blue robes of the school of Vinheim were still recognizable on its hollow body. A dark minacious light glowed in its empty eye sockets, glaring at them as he approached.  
“Griggs?” Lautrec heard Ana murmur at his side as he quietly let go of Drake, who leant and let himself slide against a nearby wall.

The metallic noise of his shotels being drawn made the keeper shudder. “No, it’s not him.”  
Before he could even make a move, the scholar of Vinheim had already cast one of his spells against them.  
“Watch out!”  
Lautrec dodged to the side just in time as the soul arrow hit against the wall, debris spurting out of it with a small arcane explosion.  
The hollowed scholar was quite ferocious, but he ran out of spells briefly after the beginning of their skirmish.

He snarled before throwing himself against them, only a simple rapier and a shield left as weapons. Ana could simply scout closer to the Undead, too scared to try to shoot Griggs, as Lautrec tried to drive him away from them.  
He was not one of the best opponents he had ever faced, but after so many battles throughout the burgh Lautrec had grown tired and slow, and the threat of dying for real this time wasn’t making things any easier.

They had circled so many times around each other that he took a moment to realize Griggs was giving his back to Ana and Drake.  
He saw him taking out of his robes two small familiar dark spheres. He felt paralyzed when he realized that if Griggs threw those bombs towards them, it would have been over.  
He saw the scholar turning around to throw them, but stopped when a sickening noise of metal and wood making way through flesh was heard echoing through the big plaza.

He almost exhaled a breath of relief when the dart sunk inside Griggs’ forehead: his body curled and thudded against the ground, the bombs rolling on the flat cobbles and exploding shortly after, throwing debris and dust in Lautrec’s face.  
He coughed dust as he quickly walked back to the Undead and helped him back on his feet.  
Ana was still staring at the lifeless remains of Griggs laying sprawled in front of her, her hands visibly shaking as she lowered the crossbow. “I just…” she sobbed. “Gods, Griggs…”  
Lautrec quickly walked past her, forcing the Undead to a pace he could barely keep. “Move.”  
He knew the noise would have surely attracted more hollows, or worse. The only thing he could do right now was moving away and hiding.

Ana saw Griggs’s satchel laying on the ground, damaged but not destroyed, and miraculously still containing a couple of books. She would have never stolen from him, much less now that he was dead. But if that was the only piece he could remember of the young scholar who kept passionately talking about finding his master, then she would have preserved it, even if they were just complicated books she would have barely understood.

By the time they had reached the top of the stairs, they were all panting and trying to get some deep breaths. Lautrec quickly and cautiously skimmed the apartment, noticing with relief no one seemed to have been there in the past weeks.  
He dragged Drake inside and went straight towards the bedroom, disregarding all the rest. “Close that.” he ordered Ana as she walked past the threshold and obediently closed the door behind her.

He let go of the man, making him lay on the bed as lightly as possible. He didn’t make a noise, remaining motionless on the mattress. He had probably fainted again.  
_Drake…_  
He lowered on top of him and pressed his cheek against his forehead. He was feverish.  
Lautrec saw him trying to open his eye again, but even that simple task seemed too much for him.  
He cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead, hit other hand reaching for Drake’s and intertwining their fingers together.  
“Just don’t leave me now.”

That’s when he saw a feeble ray of light reaching from the window, lingering on Drake’s pale cheek.  
“What the-“  
His eyes snapped towards the only window in the room, contemporarily hearing Anastacia calling his name.  
He glanced at him one last time before standing up and moving back towards the keeper. She was cautiously looking outside the door, keeping it just an inch open. She turned towards him, a puzzled look on her face “It’s… day again?” He didn’t know what it meant, but ‘nothing good’ was the first of his guesses.

He stared at the light coming from the outside before moving towards the door.  
“Where are you going?”  
He stopped just outside the threshold and exhaled deeply before explaining. “We’ll need blankets, something to defend us with. Anything that might give us a chance of surviving a little longer.” He looked around the building, but since he didn’t spot anything dangerous, he walked outside. “I might try to get those until the sun is still out there.”

“Block the door. And keep an eye on Drake.” The keeper simply nodded in response. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Try not to shoot me when I do come back, please.”

She watched him walk away and did as he told her: there was nothing to barricade the door with but an old chair, since she wasn’t sure she would have been able to move back any furniture she could have toppled in front of the door, so that alone would have had to do.  
She periodically checked on the Undead, but little changed as he kept shivering and sleeping, seemingly too tired to suffer from nightmares.  
She settled to sit on the bench opposite to the door: as hours seemed to pass her eyelids threatened to give in at any moment, but Anastacia knew that until Lautrec came back, she was on her own.  
Her palm kept tracing the complicated pattern made of scratches and cuts on the wooden grip of the crossbow, imagining every blow parried last minute, every death of their possessors it had gone through.

Something much like her, after all. Her soul had been stolen, retrieved, and most of the Chosen had barely used her as an instrument to take Gwyn down, for that’s what she was after all. A means to connect the undead to the flame. A hope, she liked thinking, albeit she knew not many people saw her like that.

She glanced again at Griggs’ satchel, laying on the opposite side of the bench. She didn’t know if she would have ever found the courage to read what was inside those books.  
It was strange how after this long time she still felt responsible for the deaths of the ones around her.

Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door, and was abruptly shaken out of her reveries.  
“Keeper!”  
He was back. Finally. She cautiously moved the chair away from the handle and opened the door, a heavy breathing and quite angry Lautrec staring back at her.

She couldn’t help but notice the small rivulet of blood running down his temple.  
“You’re bleeding.”  
Lautrec touched his forehead, unimpressed by the blood staining his palm “It’s nothing.”  
“What did that to you?”  
“One problem at a time.” He murmured back, ungracefully avoiding the question.

He passed Ana a couple of frayed blankets he had managed to snatch, asking her to wrap Drake in one and go get some sleep.  
The keeper obeyed him once more, albeit he could tell she was not happy with this situation.

With a couple of coins, some darts, and the news that the Capra and Taurus demons were alive again and seemingly hating both each other and any passerbys, that’s all he had discovered during his little trip around the burgh.  
He simply sat on the bench and leant his head against the wall, briefly closing his eyes: he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Drake. He simply wanted to have the undead around for some more time, but he had ended up crippling him instead.

Luckily enough he had plenty to think about to distract himself with, beginning with the long forgotten urge to eat something.  
Undead didn’t need food. But they weren’t undead anymore, after all. The curse came with the flame, and if the flame was gone, the curse was too. He wasn’t sure how badly dying now would have felt, but he wasn’t eager to try it.  
He could have probably hold up without eating for a few more days, but he was uncertain whether he could say the same about the keeper and the chosen.

 

The next hours passed without accidents: a new dawn was rising, the second he had witnessed in the last 36 hours. Not for a moment Lautrec had stopped staring at the door, knowing it was a matter of time before someone - _something_ \- else came barging through and demanding their lives.  
He could hear the keeper waking up in the other room, silently walking back towards the entrance and next to him.

“What are you doing?!” She whispered while she brushed her eye with the back of her hand. Lautrec didn’t raise his eyes from the book to reply.  
“Reading.”  
“Those are Grigg’s!” There was a note of concern in her voice he wasn’t sure he wanted to care about.  
“Were. And I know.”

“Since when you understand magic?” she tried to grab the book but Lautrec simply stood up and raised it out of Ana’s reach.  
“I don’t. This is a journal.” He waited patiently until she stopped tiptoeing and trying to snatch the booklet from his hands.  
“The kid was working on something big. Something about permanently transcending out of our plane of existence as a mean of resolving the problem of the flame.”  
She widened her eyes at the news. “Is that possible?”  
“He says so. But the rest are undecipherable doodles, and I have my doubts.”  
Lautrec lowered the book and let Anastacia take it back.

They settled for sitting on the bench, Ana resting the farer she could from Lautrec. The long minutes of awkward silence passed without none of them trying to make conversation. The keeper kept staring at the floor, lost in thought.

“What is even going on?”  
Lautrec rubbed his eyes with index and thumb as he replied. “Night and day are getting increasingly shorter. The world is probably turning dull again. No more diversity, no more blacks and whites, just an endless grey.”  
He kept giving sly glances in Ana’s direction. The firekeeper’s body was tense, but he could tell it was not just the usual annoyance from him being around.

“What’s wrong?”  
Silence was his answer. Too bad for Ana he was a stubborn man. “There’s clearly something bothering you.” The keeper lightly tilted her head, her arms crossed and keeping Griggs’ journal close to her chest. “You do not wish to waste your time listening to me.”  
He lightly shrugged in response. “It’s not like waiting for the end of the world thrills me either...”

Another moment of silence passed before the keeper spoke again.  
“I killed one of us.” “And?” Anastacia looked daggers at him, and he couldn’t help but silently agree he was the last person she should have spoken to on the matter. “We’re so few. We can’t-“  
“It was not him, keeper. You killed just another monster.” He had learnt way too long ago how to deal with enemies. It didn’t matter if they were hunger-driven wild animals or faithful loyal paladins: if they wanted his head, they deserved to be killed without a second thought.

She stood up and took a couple of steps away from Lautrec. “That monster was wearing a kind man’s skin! I am a Firekeeper- I should have prevented the darkness from corrupting him!”  
“You have been caged all your life, how can you pretend to fight this now?”  
“It doesn’t matter what they did to me, I was the one who had to guide them-“  
“Now you’re talking just like Rhea. Are you really that naively hopeless?” There was not just scorn in his voice. There was rage. And pity.

She took in a sharp breath, her lower lip trembling. She could feel the tears prickling at the edges of her eyes. Lautrec silently stood up to approach her and, after a moment of hesitation, gently grabbed her by her shoulders.

“That was not Griggs, Anastacia.” He told her, his voice sounding as soft as he could. “You did the right thing. Inaction would have killed us. All of us.” He murmured, slyly glancing towards the bedroom. “We wouldn’t be here talking if it weren’t for you.” He mumbled, looking at the chipped tiles on the floor, but Ana had seen the worry in his eyes.

He was a rude, harsh man, but he had made the effort to listen to her. Her altruism quickly made her overcome her uneasiness around him. She reached for his forearm, squeezing lightly “He’ll get better.”  
Lautrec exhaled deeply. “You can’t tell.” He said as he shook his head.  
“I know he will. Drake is strong-“  
“Don’t.” Something seemed hurt in his tone as he pronounced that single syllable. “I don’t need to sink in reveries. I need to keep us alive for as long as I can.”

Ana didn’t know what to think. The man who had killed her for her prized soul, now reduced in a pitiful state for something so tender as love. She would have felt sad for him, wasn’t he fitting the description of monster he kept warning her about.

“We can wait for a while, and then we’ll figure something out. I just need to make sure we survive until then.”  
He moved a step back towards the bench, but stopped when he heard Ana’s voice.  
“You should catch some sleep.”  
His head turned to glare at her: he wasn’t about to trust a frail woman (whom as a side note reasonably despised him) with his life. “I’m not moving from here.”  
“You haven’t slept in the last two days! You’re about to shut down, Lautrec. Please, listen to me-“ in that exact moment, the door was kicked open: the newcomer shouted the Carim man’s name before sprinting towards the two of them, weapons clenched tightly in his hands.


	3. Surviving is not Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh I was reading something about shotels and 
> 
> "Despite its vicious appearance, it was almost universally considered useless."
> 
> This. This is the description of Lautrec’s role in Dark Souls. I’m dying.

Lautrec snapped towards him, drawing his shotels just in time to block and shove away the blow of his sword. Anastacia pressed herself against the wall as the newcomer’s shield fell hard on Lautrec, who in the secluded space he was could only take the lump and stumble back.  
He managed to hit the sword with his shotel and fling it away from his enemy’s grasp, throwing then himself with his whole weight against him, making the Astora knight topple to the ground.  
The knight covered himself behind his shield, parrying the blunt of the attack, but Lautrec still managed to cut through the thick chainmail on the man’s arms.

The knight managed to punch him and push him off of him, grabbing the hilt of his discarded sword on the ground. He stood up, towering above Lautrec: just when he was about to strike him, he heard the noise of a rusty safety catch being pulled off.  
“Don’t force me to do this, Solaire…” the knight’s gaze dropped on the crossbow and then back to Anastacia. “You too…” he growled, clenching his teeth.

Lautrec was ready to attack Solaire again, but with a nervous firekeeper and a crossbow in this secluded room, he wasn’t sure that would have been a good idea. He wasn’t looking forward to getting accidentally stabbed by a dart.

“Why are you doing this?!” Ana tried to stay calm, but that question seemed only to enrage the knight. Solaire glared at Lautrec through the slit on his helm as he hissed. “He condemned us! He was the only other person in the kiln! He must’ve killed the chosen-“

Ana’s eyes slightly widened, her hands trembling against the crossbow. “Solaire, wait-“  
“He is the one to blame for what’s happening. You saw- the days. The sun.” Something shook in his voice as he was speaking. “Everything is fading.”

Ana stared at him, realizing how desperate he was feeling. The sun was everything to him, even after he had been scorched by a sunlight bug. No matter how hard she tried to see a monstrous enemy behind that desperate man, all she could see was the amiable fellow who had accompanied the Chosen in the last days of his journey.  
She grimaced, and Lautrec could tell she was about to drop her crossbow.

_It’s now or never._

His muscles all tensed up just to freeze when he heard a raspy yell coming from the bedroom.

“Stop!!”  
His head immediately snapped towards his side: there he was, that unrelenting idiot. He was barely managing to stand. Although he was leaning against the frame of the door, his knees looked like they were about to buckle any moment now.  
Solaire’s head snapped towards Drake at the same time, almost stunned by seeing him still alive. “Chosen-”  
The blue haired man grimaced in pain, one of his hands grabbing the bandaged side of his stomach. He inhaled sharply and forced himself to raise his head and look again towards him. “May I know what the fuck is wrong with you?!?” He yelled, stifling a cough.

“I thought you had hollowed…” Solaire took a step closer to Drake, but Lautrec immediately moved between the two of them, raising a shotel protectively and stopping the knight from proceeding any further.  
“Why… did you barge inside… like that?” The Chosen was tired, wheezing, his voice feeble, yet he was managing to sound intimidating.  
“I thought he had killed you- and the flame--“ “We might as well be the last sane people in all Lordran! You can’t go around on murder sprees like this!” He closed his eyes and slowly slid halfway against the door frame, managing to stop himself but still visibly in pain.  
“I-I didn’t mean-“ Solaire tentatively took a step forward, but was stopped by the golden knight. “Stay back!”  
Solaire glanced at the coughing form of the Undead before looking back at Lautrec, dropping his sword and shield on the wooden floor with a breathy sigh.

“It was not my intention, to slaughter the last of us.” He kept his head hanging low, but his eyes glared at Lautrec. "Only him.”  
They stared deeply and angrily at each other for a while. Only the Chosen broke the tense silence that had settled between the two of them.

“I fucking failed. Lautrec did nothing.” The golden knight didn’t avert his gaze from Solaire’s, didn’t even flinch, as used as he was to lying. “When it came to linking the Flame… Gwyn… he defeated me.” He paused, gulped loudly, his eyes wandering for the briefest of moments to the ground and then back towards Solaire. “And I killed him. I am… the only one to blame…” Lautrec heard his hand sliding on the door frame: he anticipated the Chosen just in time, grabbing his body barely before it thumped on the ground.  
“Damn Drake…” He pulled him in a standing position again, placing his arm around his shoulders. Tears were shining in his eyes as he glanced back at Solaire. “I’m sorry-“  
Lautrec looked towards the other knight before helping Drake back towards the bed.

“You idiot-“ he placed him on the bed as lightly as possible, but the Undead still grimaced in pain when he hit the mattress.  
Lautrec paced next to the door, but seeing Solaire still and looking down at the floor made him realize the Astora knight wouldn’t have tried anything, at least for the time being. He paced back, his temporary concern swept away once more by anger. “I had everything under control.”  
The Chosen writhed in pain on the mattress with his eye shut as he mumbled “Yeah, Solaire wasn’t so about to stab you to death, how could I have mistaken his ‘I will kill you, Lautrec!’ yell…” he whined again in pain and Lautrec helped him underneath the blankets. “I should have totally waited for him to kick you around a bit more…” he mumbled as he shut his eye closed, the sane side of his head resting on the thin straw pillow.  
Lautrec grabbed his chin between index and thumb, and the Undead slowly cracked his eye open, gazing into his eyes.  
The golden knight exhaled deeply as he returned the stare.

Lautrec carefully leant with his elbows pinned at Drake’s sides, lowering on top of him. “I’m glad you’re back.” He whispered as he placed a tender kiss on his mouth. The Undead’s hand weakly cupped his cheek, placing another kiss on his lips. “I would have never missed this for anything in the world.”

Their noses brushed together as he moved a bit back to give him space.  
“How bad is it?” Lautrec blinked as he momentarily looked down, frowning. “Pretty bad. But nothing we can’t manage.”

“Stop lying.” The Undead mumbled as he closed his eye, but Lautrec caressed his cheek again, forcing a small smile on his face.  
“We’ll survive. Somehow.” He took in a deep breath as he sat up on the bed, while the Undead kept looking at him with an unconvinced look.

“I don’t want to be the realistic guy in our group again, but odds have been pretty much against us up to now.” Lautrec’s hand cupped the Undead’s cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against his lips. “Stop overthinking and let me handle this.”

Drake stared at him for a very long moment before murmuring “Don’t get yourself killed and come back to me in one piece.”  
Lautrec smirked in response. “Will do.”  
He stood up and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was out he immediately glared at the other knight.

Tense silence filled the room for a brief moment before Solaire spoke.  
“What do you plan on doing?”  
“Why should I tell you?” Ana tried calling him by his name, but Lautrec raised his hand to silence her, never breaking eye contact with the Astora man. “Not a minute ago you were about to chop my head off. Allow me to have my doubts.”  
Ana took a fidgety step forward. “We need to work together to survive….”  
“What assures me he won’t try to kill me as soon as I give him my back?” Lautrec looked back at Ana before focusing again on Solaire. “He wants revenge. Not a way out. We just saw it.”  
The knight’s fists balled up at his sides. “I want justice!” Lautrec’s eyes narrowed as he spoke. “I don’t care how you call it, you want my head on a silver plate!”  
“Half of Lordran wants you dead, Lautrec!”  
  
He had a point. Too bad he stood among that deadly half of Lordran.

“The two of you, stop!” Anastacia suddenly snapped and paced next to them, shifting his gaze between one another.  
“I don’t care who did what, or how much you’d like to fight each other! I’ve had enough fights in the past hours, the only reasonable thing to do now is work together to survive this nightmare!” Solaire looked genuinely intimidated by her yelling, while Lautrec was staring back at her with something halfway between surprised and angered.  
Her shoulders raised and lowered as she sighed deeply, looking from one knight to the other. “…please?”

A yell came from the bedroom, muffled by the wooden door “I know I’m the sick one, and that no matter what I think you’ll do otherwise-“ a pause occurred as the Undead stifled another cough. “But she’s fucking right, dudes.”

The two knights looked at each other almost contemporarily, bitterly admitting they needed to collaborate if they wanted to survive through Lordran without the power of the curse.

 

***

 

A very long and tiresome trip around the burgh later, the two of them had managed to catch and kill a couple of dogs. There would have been a third, but a casual encounter with the Taurus demon made Solaire realize he cared more about his limbs rather than a full stomach. The two of them mainly ignored each other while walking around the burgh, barely helping the other whenever they ended up in a dangerous situation.

Lautrec slowly banged three times on the door of the apartment, his body sore after all the running he had done.  
Ana took a moment before cracking the door open. “Please, tell me you haven’t thrown Solaire off the bridge…”  
He had had a thought or two about it to be honest, but as Ana could see, Solaire was still beside him, cheerily waving his hand to greet her.  
“Do you know how to cook this?” Ana’s eyes lingered on the body of the lifeless dogs the knights were carrying over their shoulders.  
She opened the door, realizing she had to make do with what they had. “I can make stew out of pretty much anything. It’s practically the national dish, back home.”

After finding some cooking equipment stashed in the storage closet of the house and getting a fire going in the fireplace, Ana started preparing their meal, sending Lautrec and Solaire out again to get some buckets of water filled and to keep them occupied from arguing with each other.

As they finished their tasks they came back, just as the sun was setting again on the rim of the horizon. Lautrec sighed as he looked at it, quickly turning around and getting back inside the home before anything bad could happen in the darkness of the new night.

Solaire offered to cook while Ana rested a bit: she took the seat opposite to Lautrec, keeping her eyes low and relishing the fact the four of them were still alive and not in an immediate dangerous situation.

She heard shuffling on the other side of the table as Lautrec spoke. “I found something for you…” Ana’s curious eyes lingered on the metal helmet he had placed on the table. “It… still looks solid enough..” The keeper reached for the helmet and took it in her hands, placing it on her lap and looking at it carefully: scratches covered the entire surface of the metal, but no severe damages could be seen. Even though it had surely gone through more than one battle, it still looked sturdy enough to protect its wearer.

“I… appreciate the thought, knight Lautrec.”  
“It’s not thoughtful, it’s-“ If Ana wasn’t so focused on avoiding Lautrec’s gaze, she would have probably seen the pink hue creeping up his cheeks. “Just get yourself some protection, girl.” He snapped as he turned away from the table, looking towards Solaire.

“Is it ready?”  
“Not yet.”  
“How difficult can it be?” The knight slightly shrugged as he turned around the little he needed to look at Lautrec.  
“We take our ingredients, throw them in the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. As soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that’s when I know it’s done.” Lautrec barely noticed Anastacia’s pleased nodding as he spoke.  
“You’re having me on.”  
Solaire stirred the stew some more with the ancient wooden spoon, lightly chuckling. “You need to visit more Astora Inns.”

  
***

  
It was the first meal they had been having in months, more probably in years: the undead curse was very useful for a party of traveling adventurers, they had almost forgotten the nuisances of every day life.  
Albeit it was by far one of the most tasteless dishes he had ever eaten, having that rumbling hunger finally silenced felt like a real blessing.

Lautrec spent the rest of the evening resting against the wall opposite to the door, his lids heavily trying to close after spending the majority of the last two days awake. He kept trying to think about a way out of this madness, but he quickly came to realize that soon no place would have been safe anymore, especially if the hollows roaming the streets kept increasing at the same rate they had been doing for the past days.

He sighed deeply, sitting straighter in his chair. No matter how hard he tried, his head kept feeling like jelly and the only thought he had was to go catch some sleep.  
He still didn’t know if he could trust the other two, and risking not only his life but even Drake’s wasn’t making things any easier for him.

Solaire noticed his struggling from the other side of the room. “Do you need to sleep?”  
He lightly shrugged his shoulders as he slightly leant forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “I’m fine.”  
“There’s no need to be stubborn. If you need to rest-“  
“I’m not being stubborn.”  
“Lautrec-“  
“I’m fine. Thank you.” He replied through gritted teeth.

Ana paced next to him. “Lautrec,” She whispered, calmly talking to the knight. “go to sleep. You know Solaire won’t try anything. He’s not the type.”  
“And what do _you_ know about him?”  
A small smile formed on her lips. “Try being secluded in a cage for a great deal of your life. Eavesdropping conversations quickly becomes the only entertainment.”

“You have my word.” The other knight said after overhearing them. Lautrec wouldn’t have normally trusted anyone, but he knew how much knighthood and honor meant for Solaire. That sentence wasn’t just mere words: it was an oath. Besides, he needed to close his eyes, even if it was just for a moment.

He looked back at Ana, and that stupid proud innocence still glowing in her eyes. He nodded in acknowledgment and retreated inside the bedroom, closing the door behind him.  
He silently stripped his armor in the darkness, placing it softly and as tidily as possible on the ground.

He didn’t say a word, but Drake smiled at him when he saw him approach the bed.

“You managed to work with Solaire?”  
Lautrec smirked. “You know I’m a people person.”  
A small laugh vibrated inside Drake’s chest. “No. But fine.”

Drake rested the sane side of his face on Lautrec’s chest, feeling the other man running his fingers through his short hair. He breathed in deeply as he tried to relax again, but soon those grim thoughts he had been trying to avoid crept back inside his mind.

“I’m sorry.” Lautrec was almost caught off guard by that sentence. He quietly gulped in the darkness as his fingers stopped for a brief moment tracing soothing circles on the back of Drake’s neck.  
“It’s not your fault.”  
The other man buried his face in his chest. “I love you. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”  
Lautrec’s eyes slightly widened in the darkness as he caressed the back of his lover’s head. “You didn’t. You never did.”

Lautrec stared at the ceiling as he combed Drake’s hair with his fingers. “What made you think that?”  
“You’ve been… avoiding me.”  
“It’s not because of you, it’s-“ how could he explain it hadn't anything to do with the flame, but it was instead what he had done to Drake? How could he tell him every time he looked at him he felt a fit of guilt and shame for not being able to stop the only person he cared about from getting hurt this bad?

“It’s not you.” He felt the edges of his eyes wetting. He was glad the room was completely dark. “It’s not you.” He murmured again as he exhaled deeply, trying to imagine an outcome where, after explaining what he had done, Drake wouldn’t have left him.

“The flame-“ Lautrec shushed him, his hand combing his short hair as he reached to place a kiss on Drake’s forehead. “Forget about everything else. Forget the world exists outside of this room. There’s only you and me.” Long moments of silence passed as the Undead exhaled deeply and hugged him tighter. Lautrec closed his eyes and sighed as he murmured just above a whisper “I love you too, you dumbass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanking Alistair and Leliana’s banter for that lovely dialogue about Ferelden lamb and pea stew.


	4. When did this turn into a zombie AU

Lautrec could only sleep a few hours before being shaken awake by nightmares; of charred worlds of ash crumbling around him, of flames consuming coal statues of what must have once been people.  
He slowly sat up on the bed and put his feet on the floor, brushing his face with his palms.

He had suffered from nightmares when he was a child. He didn’t have to wonder what was the reason for their reappearance. Maybe this time he had really screwed up, but as he kept telling himself, what’s done is done. He simply couldn’t go back in time, the only way to move forward was to deal with the consequences of his actions.

He looked back at the form of the Undead, peacefully sleeping next to him. He lightly caressed his back, smiling as he moaned in his sleep and turned on his side.  
Now that the Undead had shifted, Lautrec’s eyes caught something resembling a small leather book stashed underneath Drake’s pillow.

It was Grigg’s journal.

Nothing more simple than Ana giving something the Undead could distract himself with during his recovery. Besides, among the four of them he was the only one who vaguely had an idea about how arcane magic actually worked. If someone could decipher those otherworldly doodles, that was Drake.  
He brushed his eyes with index and thumb, forcing himself to stay awake: he could see some light filtering through the cracks in the walls, but he wasn’t sure how many hours he had actually slept and how many he had spent dreaming about dark tendrils sliding in the darkness and dismembering his fellow survivors.

“What are you doing up?” A sleepy voice murmured. Lautrec silently sighed and stared back at the small leather book in his hands. “Just… nothing really.” He felt the Undead shuffling next to him and placing himself behind him on the bed. He planted a kiss on the side of his neck and leant his chin on his shoulder.

A long, silent moment passed as the Undead leant into Lautrec, wrapping his arms around his waist. His lid was still feeling heavy, but he knew all too well he had no more time to rest.  
“We should go get the others.” He said as he unfolded his arms and moved towards Lautrec’s side, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. “For what?”  
Drake yawned before replying. “I have half an idea that could get us out of here.”  
Lautrec stared at him, frowning.

“Not here _here_ , I mean this crappy situation I unwillingly put us through.”  
“What is it?” The Undead simply shook his head and made a disgruntled noise in response. “Not now-“ that mad golden glint in his eyes was still there as he looked back at him “With the others.”  
Lautrec narrowed his eyes at him “You’re just doing this because you know I would shoot down your idea, aren’t you.”  
Drake smirked. “If you know the answers, then why do you still bother asking?”  
He slightly shook his head, sighing as the Undead placed a kiss on his cheek, the short blue stubble on his chin grazing against his skin.

“Does it have something to do with this?” Lautrec said, holding Grigg’s journal towards him. The Undead took it from Lautrec’s hands, opening and quickly skimming through the pages with his thumb. He didn’t stop staring at the sheets turning as he murmured back “Partially.”

He stared in the void in front of him for a moment longer before looking back at him. “It’s not the first time I’ve read about it.” He closed it and placed it back on the mattress. “If there’s still a slim chance I can save you, then I’ll take it.”  
Lautrec cupped his cheek and turned his face towards him, looking at his features. He waited until the Undead looked back at him and closed the gap between them; their kiss was something less superficial, less brief, something that admitted they could have died for real, this time.

They remained close, their foreheads still brushing against each other’s.  
Drake forced a smile on his face and closed his eyes, standing up.  
Lautrec’s hand reached for the Undead as he watched him taking a few cautious steps around the room. “How are you feeling?” He stretched his arms above his shoulders, looking a tad more lively than the days prior. Not much, but it was something.

“Like shit, but it’s not like I have a choice.”  
Maybe the Estus he had forced him to chug was having some effects after all. Good.  
He quietly went to open the door: a bored Solaire looked back at him as Ana was softly snoring against the table. “Morning.” He murmured towards the knight, who greeted him with a nod of his head.

“Glad to see you standing, Chosen.” Drake smirked as his hand reached for his bandaged stomach, painfully sighing. “Don’t talk so soon.” He briefly chuckled as he sighed again and moved next to Ana, gently shaking her out of her sleep. “We have much to do today.”

***

“I have a plan.” The two knights were standing outside of the room as Ana helped Drake changing the bandages: after finishing rebandaging his head, she was now taking care of the deep wound on his stomach. Lautrec kept looking towards him as he put on his armor in the small living room just outside of the door.

“Well, it’s more a guide-line than a real plan, but…” He hissed as Ana carefully cleaned the deep gash running along his stomach. It was still swollen and reddened, but at least it was not bleeding anymore.

“If Griggs is right, if this thing really exists, there is only one place we could have a decent chance of finding the answer. The Archives.” He shifted his gaze sideways before looking at Lautrec and Solaire again. “Thing is, even if we do get there, we’ll take months to find a cryptic answer, and with all my optimism, I don’t think we’ll last that long if we keep meeting monsters and creatures without the aid of the curse.”  
Solaire shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Wait, what is ‘this thing’ exactly?”  
Drake paused as he pressed his lips together.

“A ritual, from what I’ve understood. We need different materials to make it work, and need a powerful spellcaster too.” He moved his arms to help Ana bandage him as he kept explaining. “If we get them, we might be able to tear through this plain and manage to reach another world, where hopefully darkness hasn’t spread yet and the flame is still burning.”

There was a long pause as the group weighed the idea in their minds, unsure about it but without any other choice to take.  
“We don’t know any wizard who could help us.” Ana murmured as he finished bandaging, raising her gaze to look him in the eyes. Drake lowered his lids as he replied “…not yet.”  
Solaire frowned “What do you mean?”  
He licked his lips, smiling towards them. The same smile he always had when he was about to pursue a deadly idea. He stood up, grabbed his shirt and put it on, patting it lightly to straighten it and clear some dust.  
“I say we go ask directly to the last god left.”

Lautrec, who had finished dressing up and had been silently listening until now, unfolded his arms and stepped forward. “You mean Gwyndolin? The one you attempted to kill?”  
“Exactly.”  
“And you call this a plan? It’s suicide!”  
“Better than waiting for my death here!” He grabbed his chainmail and blue garment and slowly put them on. His fingers lingered for a moment on the hole left by Gwyn’s sword on his stomach, which was cutting through the intricate pattern of gold decorations.

Solaire’s gaze stared at the ground as he quietly murmured “I’ve scouted ahead,” he said as he shifted his gaze towards Drake “the gate to Sen’s fortress is closed again.”  
The Chosen widened his eye for a moment, processing the news.  
“Well. Fuck.”

“What now?” the keeper feebly asked.  
Drake scratched the back of his neck. “Well… two bells are needed to open the gates. One is up above, the other is far, far below-” The Undead recited, almost by memory. He closed his eye and took in a deep breath before opening it again.

“You go ring the one past the gargoyles, I’ll head to Blight Town.” He stated as he walked past the threshold, closing the belt around his sides. Lautrec stepped in front of him. “Hell no, you’re not going anywhere in this state.”  
Drake pushed him on his shoulder, making his way past him. “Stop treating me like I’m made of glass! I can do it.”

“I’ll come with you.”  
Drake looked back at him. “The others need you more than I do.”  
“You can barely walk!”  
The Undead slowly walked backwards towards the apartment door. “I’ll handle it! Just like I’ve always done!”  
“I’m coming with you.”  
“Lautrec-“ the golden knight grabbed the collar of his dress.  
“Not. Negotiable.” He drawled through gritted teeth before letting go of him. He walked past him and carefully cracked the door open: seeing no enemies around, he opened it entirely and walked outside.

Drake snorted as he shook his head, but accepted the golden knight’s help nonetheless. His head turned back towards Ana and Solaire. “Will you manage?”  
Solaire exhaled deeply. “I believe so. I guess there is only one way to find out.” He chuckled.

“Ana…” the firekeeper’s gaze met Drake’s, and before he could say anything she had run towards him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

She let go of him after some seconds passed, leaving a kiss on his cheek. “Do stay safe.” Drake only smiled in response as he patted her shoulder, looking then towards Solaire.  
“If we do manage to ring the bell, but are not back in four dawns time… well… just go on. We’ll catch up if we can.”

He walked out of the room, and Anastacia watched the two knights walk away for a moment longer before closing the door behind them.

***

They stealthily made their way through the small burgh, avoiding anything that could be avoided. Drake was unarmed, and even if he still had his halberd, Lautrec wouldn’t have let him get into fights, weak as he was.

They walked low as they roamed the small bridges and streets connecting the various districts of the burgh.  
They were about to reach the street leading out of the city, when they heard a low rumbling growl echoing in the narrow alleys.  
There was a powerful shriek, and something heavy shook the stone as it landed on the ground.

Drake leant against the side of a building with his back as he peeked around the corner to understand what was going on in the small plaza.

There he saw them: they were swarmed by dark tendrils, purple-blue veins running along their mauled bodies. The Capra demon shrieked again as the Taurus approached it, the jaw of its skull cracking open just to snap close several times in a row, making a sickening noise of bones and rotting flesh clashing together. The Taurus demon roared before rushing towards it, its giant axe swung above its head and falling on the spot where the Capra had been eating its preys. The demon dodged the blow, drawing its two slightly curved machetes.

“Lautrec-“ but as the Undead turned around, the golden knight was already looking for another way around them. “Let me think for a moment…” he whispered back.

The giant Taurus slammed its axe against the Capra demon, which simply sidestepped and attacked it. Drake leant to look at them for a moment longer before turning towards the other knight. “Let’s go back. Better flee and wait-“  
A huge clash was heard, like a giant axe hitting stone: bricks snapping, old stonework cracking open, boulders shifting and grinding underneath, quickly opening a crumbling huge gap in the plaza, which ran from where the Taurus had hit towards the outer side of it, where Drake and Lautrec were standing.  
The floor opened underneath their feet, buildings collapsing at their sides: the void underneath them was quickly replaced by another hard ground, since luckily there was a narrow lower level just below them. They landed heavily on it, and immediately attempted to stand up again, pain shooting from their limbs as they forced themselves back on their feet.  
Lautrec called for Drake, attempting to help him, but the other man waved him away, struggling to stand up by himself.  
Lautrec heard the two giant beasts still fighting on the upper level, and pressed himself and Drake against the wall just in time to see the Taurus demon falling in front of them on his back, the Capra following suit, plunging its swords into the giant demon’s stomach. The Taurus shrieked in pain and grabbed the other demon’s head, smashing it on the ground next to him, the impact strong enough to crack its skull. It stood up again just in time to be hit by the Capra, losing its balance and toppling over the edge of the platform, falling lower once more, but managing to grab the other demon’s foot this time. The Capra gurgled a feral snarl as it tried to grapple the stone terrain: its claws left deep scratch marks on the floor as it was dragged by the heavier demon, disappearing from view.

Just after the two of them were gone Lautrec realized Drake had been tightly holding his hand for the whole time, still pressed against the wall.  
“We must move.” He muttered, looking at the long platform they had landed on, which seemingly was the only thing separating them from a drop of hundreds feet towards what looked like the huge swamp of Blight Town.

They shakily started making their way towards one end of the platform, heading towards what looked like the way towards the shrine. Making their way back was difficult, but nonetheless quiet. All the hollows had been drawn away from this part of the burgh, and they could only suppose no one, not even a hollow, wanted to be caught in the crossfire between the two demons.

They didn’t dare speak, too worried about that silence to muster the courage to break it.  
That’s when they heard a low rumbling, seemingly carried by the wind: nothing too loud, but certainly not to be ignored.

Lautrec slowed down and walked at Drake’s side, murmuring in his ear “You hear it too?” the Chosen gave him a worried nod, always looking around the streets and always seeing nothing but corpses. Most of the Hollows, at least the ones they were used to, were dead.

“What did you and Solaire find out here?”  
Lautrec stared at the corpses littering the ground as they walked past them. “We never found anything else but what we were used to. Well, demons excluded.”

The noise kept getting closer, and they raised their gazes to look towards the direction it was coming from: the rumbling became a booming roar, when they finally spotted a swarm of running hollows turning around the corner. Even from afar, they could see the renewed madness moving their limbs, their broken spirits now urging them to kill anything that wasn’t akin to them.

Drake just felt Lautrec’s hand wrapping around his, dragging him away from all that, picking up a pace he could barely keep with his injured side sending stronger pangs with each stride he made. They climbed up stairs and wooden platforms and ran through the old drain passage he had opened so many months prior.  
Lautrec slammed the metal door close behind them, feeling bony sharp fingers digging in his arms; he made sure they wouldn’t get through before following the Undead along the corridor that brought back towards the Shrine.

They heard the snarls filling the long corridor, echoing through it. Drake had noted the bars beyond which the merchant used to dwell were now torn open, no sign of her whatsoever. His legs felt heavy and his lungs burning: he leant against the wall with one hand, trying not to faint for the pain.

Lautrec approached him “Drake-“ He raised a hand in between his coughing and nodded a bit. He spat some blood before finding the strength to stand straighter and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
“I’m fine.”  
He kept walking with his hand reaching for the wall. Their feet sloshed against the putrid water with every step they took towards the light erupting from the exit at the end of the hallway.

They silently approached the opening, and Drake pressed himself against the wall as he let Lautrec pass and take a quick peek outside.  
He was expecting to meet many hollows, but instead there were none, as if they had all been gathering back inside the walls of the burgh.

He walked outside, mumbling. “Looks like it’s our lucky day.”  
Lautrec saw the dark grass where Laurentius’ body had been laying, noting there was no corpse around. He didn’t know whether to hope he was brought back to life and moved by himself or he was eaten by something else. Both didn’t look like great options.

They walked back towards the center of the shrine, where Drake had been keeping a storage box. He ignored the large dry stain of blood coloring the grass where he had been laying almost dead a couple of days prior.  
He opened the old wooden trunk and started rummaging through it: most things had been taken away – Patches could have been still around, he reminded himself – but what he really needed was still there. Probably whoever had taken away his armor had considered those things simple rags.

“Take these.” Drake held the gold-hemmed robes towards Lautrec, who simply stared back at him. “Stop giving me that look, I know they’re rags, but as I told you, we don’t want to get into fights!”  
“But we will! It’s Blight Town!”  
Drake raised his gaze towards him, his arm still holding out the black robes which had once belonged to one of the daughters of the witch. “We get in, ring the goddamn bell, and get out. Easy peasy.”  
The man who had been stabbed to death by an undying sunlight god telling him Blight Town would have been easy peasy. Why was he not surprised.

Lautrec grumbled undertone, but accepted the robes nonetheless: he knew he couldn’t afford to get poisoned, and with some effort, he was able to wrap the black cloth on top of his armor; some of the golden material still shone through the robes, but he was fairly cloaked and ready to go waist deep into a deadly swamp.

Drake had managed to put together another set of armor from what was left inside the chest: the pieces belonged to different armors but his figure reminded of the pyromancer armor Laurentius used to wear. He didn’t know where he had managed to find one, but Lautrec was sure it wasn’t the same Laurentius was wearing when they killed him.  
Drake placed his old bow on his shoulder and hung the quill to his belt, his pyromancer glove already in his left hand, faintly emanating warmth.

Lautrec took his helmet off, breathing in the fairly cold air of the Shrine. He followed the Undead as he descended the set of stairs that brought in front of what once was Ana’s prison, lingering for a moment longer as he watched the burgh from afar.  
“We deserve a holiday after this.” Drake sighed, feeling the other man stepping next to him.

“First we save the world, then I’ll bring you wherever you like. Ever been to Carim?”  
“No. How is it?” He felt Lautrec’s fingers intertwining with his own and he turned towards him, taking his other hand.  
“Horrible. I’d avoid that.” Drake smirked, and Lautrec rolled his eyes. “Priests, knights, honorable cleric orders…”  
“Cheating goddesses…”  
“Believe it or not, Fina was not a Carim institution.”  
“You sure like looking for trouble.”  
“That’s the way I found you.”  
The Undead gave him a dirty look and smiled.

Lautrec closed the distance between them, his hands traveling from the Undead’s hands to his sides, pulling him closer. “Besides, I’d rather find a new adventure, with you at my side.”  
“Well, look at us, making plans for our post-apocalyptic future together…” he chuckled. “…If we survive this- I mean, _when_ we survive this…” Drake gently pecked his lips before continuing. “…I’ll gladly cash this adventure you’re promising me.”


End file.
